Untranslatable
by Zhong TianHui
Summary: Tampo, Lambing, Mono no Aware, Sprezzatura, Gigil, Ya'aburnee, Sobremesa...This will be a series of oneshots with themes which revolve around a non-English word or two whose meaning, connotation, context and implications cannot be contained within a single English word. (Multiple Pairings)
1. Tampo & Lambing

Author's Note: This will be a series of oneshots with themes which revolve around a non-English word or two whose meaning, connotation, context and implications cannot be contained within a single English word. To those who read this and speak in another language besides English, if you can, please PM me with suggestions. ^_^ I'd like to know more about other languages too! Until then, most of the words will be either Tagalog, Chinese or Japanese.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

"Tampo" and "Lambing"

Tampo - A person's withdrawal of affection or attention from another person who has offended or hurt his or her feelings as a way of expressing their hurt feelings. As an apology and to earn back the person's affection, the offending party must bring him or her out of this unhappy state through lambing.

Lambing - Showing extra attention and affection to another person as well as expressions of concern and making oneself seem cute. (Usually, in a touchy-feely way)

x.X.x

After a long day's work of talking to clan head after clan head and convincing them to invest more into the expansion of the village, Hashirama was glad to finally be back home. It's not that he didn't like working to improve the village- his dream and his creation. It's just that there are days when he'd much rather be home, spending time with his wife.

He opened the door to their house and the smell of spices and lemon grass wafted through the living room. Hashirama closed the door and took off his sandals, taking in the sound of someone chopping in the kitchen and the smell of_...was that coconut milk?_ His mouth watered, excited to taste Mito's cooking once more. _Why doesn't she cook like this more often?_

When he was inside the kitchen and close enough to Mito to see all the ingredients that lay before her, she said "I thought you'd be late, Hashi," her eyes concentrated on the chopped red chilli she was slicing. "I haven't finished the spice paste for my soup."

"It's okay," Hashirama answered, taking in the soft and measured cadence of her voice "I can help you."

"Of course," Mito said quietly, wrinkling her nose at the idea her husband cooking with her. She openly acknowledges that between them, he is the better cook. But whenever he tried to "help", the man took over completely. The dish that will be served later probably won't resemble the one she's trying to make.

Hashirama took an extra knife from the drawers and scanned the ingredients set on the table. _Ginger. Shallots. Garlic. Red Chillies. Dried Prawns. Lemon Grass. Coconut Milk. Noodles. Egg. _Then an idea sparked in his head.

"Mito, have you tried the vegetable the Hyuuga brought over the other day?"

She let out a heavy sigh. _Here we go again._ Mito knew he meant well and he had only good intentions, so she smiled and answered "I haven't, dear. But I have all the ingred-"

"They called it galangal." Hashirama said, already looking through the cupboards for the stem. "It's kind of like ginger but it has a sweeter and more citrusy taste. It would go well with your lemon grass."

Mito put down her knife and turned towards her husband, "Dearest, I already have ginger. There's no need for mo-"

"I think we also have coriander in the garden. You could add ground coriander to the recipe."

"Hashi, I'd like-"

"Wouldn't it be better to use rice noodles instead of ramen?"

"Hashirama." Mito's hand rested firmly on his, preventing him from opening the drawer where the rice noodles were kept. With all seriousness, she looked directly at him and said "Hashirama, I know you're a wonderful chef."

He couldn't help but blush at the compliment and she couldn't help but smile at his ill-hidden blush. "Yes, you're a wonderful chef but I'd like to cook this one on my own."

"Oh." It was the only thing he could say as the realization dawned unto him- she didn't want him here cooking with her. He brought his hand away from the drawer and offered "Is there anything else I can help with?"

Mito smiled at her husband, glad that he was enough of an adult to understand her situation. "Could you set the table?"

"Alright." In silence, he walked towards another cabinet and retrieved the dishes. Mito furrowed her eyebrows, confused by Hashirama's uncharacteristic silence. Usually, he was more jolly in performing his work, no matter how menial they were.

She did not comment on his behavior as they continued with their work in silence.

x.X.x

"Hashirama, are you feeling well?" Mito asked when he entered the room close to midnight- two hours later than he usually did. He barely said anything during dinner and when she tried to get him to speak, he would only give single-word replies. Mito was worried. _He looked especially happy when he came home._

Hashirama did not say anything. The only indication that he heard her was a quick nod and a dismissive wave of his hand. Afterwards, opened the large window in their room and sat quietly gazing at the full moon.

Mito watched her husband from where she sat on her bed, wondering what the change of demeanor meant. _Did she remind him of something bad that happened today? Did she say something offensive? Was her cooking really that bad?_ For a moment, Mito was lost on why her husband was being so distant to her.

Until she saw him sneak a glance at her.

It lasted for only a second, maybe less, but it was there. A knowing smile crept up Mito's face.

She walked towards Hashirama and knelt beside him. He tensed at her presence and close proximity. Placing her hand over his, she said "Was it something I said earlier?" He shrugged, eyes still locked on the moon.

Mito brought her head to rest against Hashirama's shoulder. When he did nothing to indicate that her actions were unwelcomed, she continued "I'm sorry I didn't let you help out a while ago." She moved to lock their hands together. "I just thought I'd prepare something special for you- something I made myself."

Hashirama said nothing but leaned his head against hers. _Acceptance or encouragement?_ "Come on, Hashi," Mito whispered, pouting her lips. "Don't tell me you're still mad at me."

"I'm not mad, Mito."

She smiled and moved to fully embrace him from behind. "Then let's go to bed." He turned to face her and was greeted by the most adorable sight- Mito, her lips formed into a practiced pout, long and vibrant red hair framing her face. "Please?"

Trying not to be affected by her actions, he closed his eyes and brought his hand to his chin- the face he usually assumed when he wanted others to believe that he's thinking deeply about something.

"We can cook breakfast together."

Hashirama finally cracked a slightly crooked smile. "How could I say no to that?" Mito couldn't help but laugh at the sudden change in demeanor. He suddenly scooped her up and stood up, carrying her towards the bed. Still laughing, she cried "Hashirama! Put me down!"

"You said you wanted to go to bed, I'm taking us there."

Mito made a show of resisting- something Hashirama did not expect. He lost his balance, dropped her and they both fell on the bed, laughing. Mito turned to face her husband, a smile spread across her face.

Others probably won't understand their strange rituals of _tampo_ and _lambing_- of silence and sweetness. To an observer, it would seem like a childish game unfitting for the Hokage and his wife to be playing. But it was a necessary step they both have to take occasionally in order to draw each other closer.

They both knew that. They both embraced it. That night, they both slept a breath closer to each other.


	2. Mamihlapinatapei

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Notes: Mamihlapinatapei- a look shared by two people, each wishing that the other will offer something that they both desire but are unwilling to suggest or offer themselves.

Originally posted on tumblr and written for sasori-no-akasuna

x.X.x

People usually believe Sunagakure to be a purely Spartan village whose interests lie solely on fighting and missions and conjuring new jutsus because of the kind of shinobi they produce. But anyone who has actually been to Suna would see that this is not the case. The village was heavily invested in the arts— glass art, painting, and most especially the theatre arts.

Look closely and it's plain to see how much they value the puppet theatre— the use of puppets in warfare and in battle, the standard black uniform for anyone using puppets (an elite team in themselves, separated from other jounin who wore beige instead), and even the ANBU Ops wore noh masks similar to those used in the theatre. But the appreciation and culture brought about by this permeated across all social classes, shinobi and civilian alike, in an annual mask festival Suna held on the eve of the autumn equinox.

There would be parades, a carnival, street dances, food set up on the side of the streets, a large bonfire, and, of course, a puppet play to close the night. Normally, people wore Noh masks specifically for the theatre but this year, someone suggested that they use half-masks in the Western tradition instead— half masks and everything that came with it.

So, that is how Karura found herself with her back to the wall, in a large hall she didn't know existed until then, wearing a dress that was too impractical in a place like Suna. _At least the party was at night. My back would burn if I went out into the sun like this_. She adjusted the shawl on her shoulders, looking around the large ballroom for a familiar face— but all she saw were masks. Glittering, porcelain, impersonal, and down right frightening masks.

Never in her life had she felt all alone in a sea of people.

Her husband told her that this was so that people can meet others that they wouldn't interact with otherwise. The masks would put down barriers of shinobi vs civilian and the different social classes of society. Or something like that— as if the dress they wore didn't already give away that they were part of the upper class. Yes, she would like to talk to more people, to meet more of them, to slip away into the crowd and be able to do things no one would fault her for because _that_ was the point of this whole affair…but where to star—

"Karura."

She turned, recognizing the name before she saw the familiar red hair that framed his face, or that distinct sharp-edged smile, and the glassy brown eyes behind his black mask. She let out a sigh, relief washing over her— yes, a familiar face. A light laugh escaped her lips soon after. "Oh, it's you. I didn't think anyone would recognize anyone like this."

"Ah, but it's easy if you know what you're looking for."

Karura opened her mouth to say something— did she hear that right or was she simply reading too deeply into a single sentence? Was he looking for her specifically? But before the words could come out of her lips, Sasori gave a bow and extended his hand towards her— the sudden swell of music highlighting his intentions.

She placed her hand in his without much hesitation, despite the fact that she was not good with these social dances— more familiar with the folk dances that were playing on the streets at that moment. Maybe, she put in her hand too quickly because an electric jolt shot through her system and she could feel her body freeze at the contact and at the sound of the music. And her knees suddenly felt weak when he moved to lead her towards the dance floor, though it was towards a more secluded area as the middle of the hall was too crowded already.

The music grew louder as they positioned themselves, Karura putting in as much of a polite space in between them as she could with a smile on her face. She felt unsure of how to fit into the dark waltz that played but Sasori seemed so sure of his steps— she let him lead her into the dance, finally falling into the familiar three beats. Her head was slightly bowed, eyes on her feet to make sure that she didn't accidentally step on him.

Karura gave a small congratulatory laugh to herself— thinking that she was able to carry on with the dance by this point. That was, until she lifted her head and met his intense gaze. She forgot to step to the side.

But this time, he simply brought her a little closer, and that was all it took for her feet to fall back into the rhythm. Not once did she look away, couldn't tear her eyes off his. Not under that gaze. Not even when her heart beat loud enough to match the orchestra. Not even when she felt his hand lightly brush the small of her back, sending shivers to her spine. Not when the room seemed to light up when she was in his arms. No, not when her tongue burned with a million questions.

_Why are you dancing with me? Why are you bringing me so close to you that your breath bushes my cheeks? Why do you smile at me like that and to no one else? What is… this? Why does my heart skip beats when I'm in your presence, when I see you from across the hall? Oh, goodness. What have you done with my head— my heart?_

But in reality, the asking these questions were useless. Karura already knew the answers to most of them. Definitely not a simple attraction. Else, why would he invade her thoughts so often? Why would she want, not only to be in his presence, but also to talk to him, to watch him at work, to ask how his day was? And Karura could see the same look, the same burning questions, the same conclusions that reflected in his eyes.

But the bigger question— _one that she couldn't answer, one that she didn't want to answer_— remained.

_…So what happens now?_

Nothing but silence pervaded what little space was left between them. No answers. Just silence. And waiting.

And Karura remembered reading a book where she encountered this word— a word that perfectly described this heavy and loaded silence between them. Memihlapinatapei— from the language of a small village in Hi no Kuni. A meaningful look shared by two and the silence between them…a look and a wish, a desire they both share. A shared desire yet a reluctance to suggest it themselves. And so they wait.

And so the two of them wait. Karura waits for him because she has a family and her heart shatters at the thought of starting something that could end that. Sasori waits for her because he is a shinobi— loyal to his village, and to the Kazekage, and incidentally her husband.

They wait even as the music slows to a halt. Wait for a sign when most lovers in the dance floor would lean in and share a kiss— they don't because they're not lovers. They don't because they're still unsure of what they even are. Instead, they slowly step back, only noticing now how close they've gotten through the dance.

"Thank you for dancing with me," Karura said giving a small bow. And before Sasori could say anything, another person cut in and extended his hand towards her. Now, there was a hesitation before she reached out and placed her hand in the stranger's— because he wasn't the familiar face she wanted to dance with that night. A hesitation was all it took for Sasori to slip back into the crowd.

The question still lingered in the air between them, no matter how large or small the distance. It didn't dissipate for a long time, still as thick as ever when they chance to meet once more. The question still lingered.

_So what happens now?_


	3. Ya'aburnee

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

Ya'aburnee: from what I know, it is Arabic and it literally translates to "You bury me." It is a declaration of love. It is a hope that the object of a person's love will outlive them- that, literally, they will be the one to bury their bones under the earth. It is to spare themselves the pain of living without their love. Life is meaningless like that.

Notes/Parameters/Axioms: For this story, assume that Sasori and Karura had an on-going relationship while she was married to the Yondaime Kazekage. Assume that he found out sooner or later.

x.X.x

"Yashamaru?"

Sasori looked down at the figure kneeling in front of him, head bowed down, dressed in the full jounin uniform._ What could he possibly want now?_ "I wish to speak to you. Privately." The man's voice was soft and strained, and Sasori assumed it was probably the cloth masking the lower half of his face. He really didn't want to put too much thought into it— it was late and the journey itself would take around a week. The sooner they left, the sooner he could come back.

"Well, make it quick." Sasori said as he followed Yashamaru behind one of the ridges in the walls that surrounded the village, a hand ready to reach out for a scroll in case he was sent by the Kazekage to do a little clean up. Given the recent events, it wasn't unlikely.

What he did not expect was arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a kiss. Horrified, Sasori instantly pushed the person away and drew back. But the responding "Ah!" and the accompanying fall was too feminine, too clumsy to be Yashamaru. Only when he looks at the figure once more did he notice indigo eyes staring back at him instead of Yashamaru's blue.

"K-Karura?"

"I- I can explain," she said, reaching out for the hand he's just extended to help her up. Once up, she folded the cloth that covered her face and placed it on one of the vest pockets. "I— I just wanted to see you." The tears brimming at the edge of her eyes shone clearly in the light of the moon.

Karura let out a shaky breath and a small laugh. She really didn't mean to surprise Sasori like that— but this was the only way she thought of that allowed her to maneuver through the streets and into the village gates without being seen. She's done this before, though when she was younger and Yashamaru was too sick to go to school. She's done this before and she knew that in the dark of the night, their hair color was the same, the twinge of violet in her eyes was not seen, and kneeling down, the height difference was a little harder to perceive. Couple that with the late hour and the tired shinobi at the gate— it really was the only way.

She was about to say something when Sasori closed the gap between them. This time, he was the one who leaned down to kiss. Just like all his other kisses, it was holy water and bitter wine on her lips. Karura gripped at his shoulders when he tried to move back, pressing her lips more urgently against his. But his hands were firm as they pried hers away, and the tears in her eyes blurred the expression on his face— unreadable.

"I don't want you to leave me today," Karura whispered.

"It's only a month."

"It's a year, Sasori!" Her voice was hoarse as she tried to scream it as quietly as she can. "One month in Kiri. Five in Konoha. Scattered missions in Tsuchi. Those are several long term missions and…" she tried to choke back a sob that threatened to escape, "and that's only for this year."

Karura looked down, her hands moving to hold her arms because there was no other support she could lean on. One of them is leaving…and the other… Before Sasori could ask how she knew, Karura said, "I have my own set of spies," forcing out a laugh. "Kankuro told me… and I quote… I heard daddy say that Sasori-sama ought to start accepting long term missions from now on. Or bad things will happen… I didn't understand the rest."

Another tear fell from her eye and she was quick to wipe it away. "If you're going— I don't want to stay."

"Karura, you know I can't take you with me."

She backed up towards the wall and Sasori's hand on her cheek should have been comforting but it couldn't still the rapid beating of her heart. And maybe, Karura ought to tell him that the whole world was spinning and her whole world was moving, beating, to the rhythm of her heart. Maybe she ought to tell him that, lately, she's been having trouble breathing and that crying usually made things worse. Maybe she ought to tell him that, earlier that day, she spat out blood.

Then again, it could have simply been a late after effect of a slap to the face— one she's hidden away in the cover of the night.

"I wish you could though," Karura said, taking his hand into hers— holding it tightly and wishing she didn't have to let go. "Parting is… all we need to know of hell." (Emily Dickinson)

But staying with him meant parting with her family— the family she loved all too dearly. And her children— Karura doesn't think she can live without her children. All of them actually.

Especially Sasori. Her heart yearned for and craved for him, for his presence in every waking moment. Like a drug as his kisses ran through her body. Ha! He even produces all the three main characteristics of an addiction.

Tolerance— Karura needed to see more and more and more of him. Suddenly, a brief glimpse wasn't enough. Now, a full day was never enough. Eternity would never be enough. Withdrawal— and how much she misses him when he's gone and how much her hands shake at the though of him being gone for longer than the set amount of time. Relapse— because, once when he was on a week long mission, Karura thought she could handle herself after the third day. Then a song played on the radio, and she's back to day one.

"This isn't the last time I'm going to see you," he reassured her.

_Then why does it feel like it would be? Why does it feel like I'm saying good bye for good?_ Her heart still beat like a drum— loud and quick echoing beats. But she could only sigh and whisper "I love you dearly, Sasori. I'm going to miss you."

One last kiss. "Good bye, beloved." And the last thing he whispered, still pressed against her lips.

**_Ya_****'****_aburnee_**

With that, Sasori disappeared all too quickly— like an apparition in a dream. Tears still in her eyes, Karura willed her feet, heavy as lead, to move towards home. That was the last kiss. The last goodbye. The last words she'll ever hear him whisper to her.

The last, because Karura is sure that, as long as her husband remains Kazekage, Sasori will never be in Suna long enough to lay down and rest his head. Karura will never be able to leave home without a guard, and she'll forever bear with the broken pieces of a heart that's not quite complete anymore.


End file.
